The Hard Fall
by Ferality
Summary: Hunters are not born, they're made. This is the story of one such Hunter, his trials, and the choices he had to make. Summary sucks. Rating for language and violence in later chapters.
1. Chance Meeting

_Disclaimer: I do not own the World of Darkness, or anything affiliated with it. I just enjoy spending time in the world they created. This is just a non-profit work of fiction, produced by a fan._

_**A/N: **_Okay, well here is my third attempt, I believe, at writing something. Let's see how it turns out. Read, review, and enjoy.

_Chapter 1: Chance Meeting_

_**Sometimes, I sit down and I try to make sense of everything that's happened. I try to figure out why it happened. Where everything started. What I had missed. In the end, the only conclusion I seem to be able to reach is that life is just a funny thing. Not funny like clowns, or a well told joke. No, this is a more subtle type of humor, like waking up in the middle of the night to take a piss, only to find a swarm of venomous spiders crawling out of your shower drain. Yeah, it's a real fucking riot...**_

_**-**_**First undated entry from the journal of Trevor Reed**

_Month: July / Date: 23rd / Year: 1997_

_Dear Journal,_

_Wednesday. I really don't think I need to say much more than that. People can complain all they want about Mondays but me, I think I'm going to stick to disliking Wednesdays. So, my car finally decided to bite it. I wish I could say that it was a surprise, but let's face it, that thing has been running on little more than hope and prayers for a few months now. And as we all know, public transportation is about as enjoyable as having teeth pulled. I've got work tonight, still doing the night janitor gig at the library. Seriously, what kind of job is that? Well, I shouldn't complain, I guess. It was a job no one else seemed to want, so landing it was easy. It's not exactly complicated work either. It's just kind of creepy, I guess. It's a big place, and it gets empty and quiet at night. But, a job's a job, right?_

_These last few days though... I don't know, just a feeling like I'm being watched while I work. It's got me constantly checking over my shoulder. Probably just me being a bit superstitious, but still. I just can't shake the feeling..._

_Anyways, I figured I'd take the time to vent a bit before jumping in the shower. I'll probably look back on this next week sometime and laugh. And it's only Wednesday. I still have three days for the week to improve._

_-TR_

The bus rolled to a stop on the corner with a slight squeal followed by the hissing of the air brakes, before the doors opened. And no sooner had they opened than a young man in jeans and a t-shirt hopped off and took off down the street. He debated checking his watch as he ran, but with the street lights being rather non-cooperative at the moment, leaving the sidewalk he was currently sprinting down in a cloak of shadows, it didn't seem like the best of ideas to add yet another distraction to the mix. After all, his luck was bad enough without tempting it.

He settled for trying to do the math in his head. The bus had been running almost ten minutes late. In the absence of traffic, it had instead hit almost every red light between here and his apartment building. Most of the red lights lasted about eighty-seven seconds, with the major roads being easily double that.

Before he could reach a rough estimate on how late he may be running however, a new problem arose in the form of a discarded beer bottle, which his right foot had managed to come down on. He found himself pitched forward and struggling to maintain his balance against the unrelenting forces of gravity. Realizing quickly this was not a fight he was going to win, he decided to try to minimize the damage done, pitching to his right.

His palm came down hard on the cement, and he knew from the irritating sting that he'd have to be careful handling the cleaning solution tonight. He continued the roll, his shoulder making contact a bit harder than he would have cared for, before rolling onto his back. He actually would have been mostly unharmed, had the back of his head not found the only parking meter for almost fifteen feet.

He lay there for a moment, blinking his eyes, before forcing himself to a sitting position. One hand rubbed the back of his head, while the other moved so he could see his watch. "And of course... Five minutes late, and still delayed..." He muttered to himself, rising to his feet and trying to shake off the mild disorientation that he found often accompanied being hit in the head. He settled on a light jog the rest of the way.

* * *

"You're late Reed!" The raspy voice that greeted him belonged to one Mr. Wilson Crestmere. To describe the old man as cantankerous would be a bit of an understatement. "You know, I should fire your worthless ass on the spot, but you're the only one I have to fill this position, so it looks like I'm stuck with you!" Trevor, who was trying to catch his breath, took a brief moment to note that his boss still had his delightfully sunny disposition. "Anyways, the toilet in the women's restroom is clogged up pretty bad. See what you can do about it. And lock up on your way out!" The elderly man had called, hobbling on his stick-like legs towards the exit to the large, gothic themed building.

Trevor merely shook his head, biting back any remarks that happened to cross his mind. He needed this job, and while Mr. Crestmere complained about him, often, and usually at great lengths, he had never fired Trevor, because in the grand scheme of things, Trevor had not yet screwed up bad enough to warrant it. Best not to tempt it.

The janitor's closet lock was stuck, again. So, after a nightly ritual that involved jiggling the keys, pulling on the lock, and finding new and inventive ways to string together a litany of curse words, he finally gained access to the small closet that held the tools of his livelihood. That thought actually caused him to feel quite depressed for a few moments, as he stepped up to the small sink inside, and proceeded to wash the scrape on his hand. As he did so, his eyes found the mirror, and they found the same face they always did staring back at him.

Trevor always found it slightly surreal to look into a mirror. Mostly because he never seemed to see whatever it was most other people seemed to see. He had light brown hair, usually a bit unkempt for a variety of reasons, primary among them was the fact that it was simply unruly. His eyes were a simple brown, and stared at the world through the lenses of a pair of glasses as a result of his astigmatism. Truly a gift that kept on giving. His face today was clean shaven, with only a handful of areas where he had nicked himself, but it was usually somewhere between a five and a seven-fifteen shadow. And that seemed to be all the facial hair he could actually grow. In fact, the only extraordinary thing about him, was the degree to which he was completely ordinary.

So why did people always seem to detest his presence? He shook his head, dismissing the train of thought. He had a job to do, after all. And the first item on that list involved a toilet. Yeah, he hated Wednesdays.

* * *

He was taking a quick break in one of the aisles of the non-fiction section, a half-empty bag of Skittles was his only company. He had spent almost twenty minutes trying to get the toilet to act the way it should. And he had finally succeeded, but it was not an easily won battle. "I could have sworn Mr. Crestmere had a daytime janitorial staff. Why couldn't they handle it?" He muttered to himself, popping another Skittle in his mouth before making a displeased face. Seriously, why did they even make grape Skittles? Of course, if he hadn't been in such a hurry, he could have been eating a ham sandwich with a Coke. But nope, both of those were currently sitting in his refrigerator at home. So, facing the option of dining from a vending machine tonight, it came down to Skittles or a Baby Ruth bar.

He folded the bag in half, tucking it into his front pocket, before taking up the mop again. He'd managed to make his way through the children's section, and a good portion of the non-fiction. That left the rest of the non-fiction, and the section with records and what not. Then he had to vacuum the second floor, and clan the windows. As he thought about his to-do list, he found himself retracting his previous statement, as he knew exactly why they would hire a night time janitor.

Sighing heavily, he wrung out the mop, and set it back on the floor, when he got that feeling. It started as a shiver along his back, that settled itself firmly between his shoulder blades, causing the hair on the back of his neck to rise. He quickly swiveled his head on his shoulders, peering down the dimly lit aisle only to see no one. Not quite convinced, he kept his gaze on the far end of the aisle, walking backwards as he mopped the floor. The sensation didn't ease up. He was almost at the end of the aisle, and turned his head quickly, stepping past the end of the aisle...

And right into someone. He blinked in shock as a quiet 'eep' sound caught his attention. "Oh, oh geez! Are you okay?" He asked, hurriedly propping the mop against a shelf, and leaning down to help the mystery person up. A mystery person who, upon actual inspection, was a female.

As he helped her up, he was actually a bit surprised. He was not exactly a large individual, standing maybe five-foot-eight, and having a build that was best described as 'scrawy'. But he still had at least half a foot on this woman. Because, yes, as he helped her to her feet, it was obvious she was not a child. Her deep green eyes, or what he could see of them between the curtain of strawberry blonde hair, and the fact that she had them cast to one side shyly, held a certain maturity to them. Much like her face, and her posture.

"Umm... Thank you. Sorry to trouble you, I was just looking for the section on myths and folklore." Her voice was quiet, and Trevor had to strain a bit to hear it. And then afterwards, he found himself chewing on his bottom lip.

"Well, I'm sorry miss, but I'm just the janitor. In fact, the library's supposed to be closed now. I'm surprised Mr. Crestmere forgot to lock the door when he left." He knew he probably should have checked, but he figured it was an easily correctable mistake, and as long as the woman in front of him was the only after hours guest, it could easily be swept under the rug.

"Oh... Well, I'm sorry then..." Those words, combined with the way the woman hung her head slightly made Trevor realize that the English language needed a word to describe a situation like this, because 'unfair' just wasn't cutting it. He sighed heavily, running a hand down his face.

"Look..." He started, not wanting to turn the woman away. He made no allusions to himself on the hormonal influence on his choice. The woman was petite, but she was attractive in that demure, almost mousy sort of way. It also didn't help that he had almost no luck with women. He lost his virginity to what amounted to a drunken pity fuck towards the end of his stay in high school, and as that was also the last time he did the deed, he figured he could safely have his sex life declared legally dead. So, despite the odds being stacked against him, he figured it couldn't hurt to try to win some favor. "I can't check out any books to you, but... I can show you to the section. You can sit down and read there, just please, put the books back where you got them from. And I get off around six in the morning, so that's the absolute latest you can stay, okay?"

The woman gave him a dazzling smile at this news, and a happy nod of her head. He was pretty sure he had just been played. Trevor just sighed inwardly and suppressed a shake of the head. Well, at least he could pretend he had company for a few hours. He put the mop in the bucket and wheeled it near the check-out counter, where he would leave it for the time being while he played escort.

"Anyways, my name's Trevor..." He said, as he led her towards the stairs. He would have offered a hand, but in his experience, not a lot of people shook hands with the janitors.

"Oh, uh I'm Celia." She said, her gaze moving around the library as she followed him up the stairs. "This library is huge. Do you read much?"

The question actually caught Trevor off-guard. Not so much what was asked, but the fact that it was directed at him. In fact, the only reason he caught onto it was because he remembered they were the only two in the library. "Huh? Uh, a little bit. When I have time and find a book that catches my interest."

Celia nodded, and remained silent as Trevor led her through the various shelves of books on the second floor. Finally slowing down and checking the section titles carefully. "Aaaand, here we are. Myths and folklore. It'll be these four shelves here, and those four over there..." He said, gesturing broadly with his arms. "And there's a table and a few chairs just down this aisle here. So, I'm going to make sure the door's locked, and then get back to work. If you need to leave before six, just come find me. Shouldn't be too hard. And since the library's technically closed, I'm guessing the no shouting rule doesn't really apply, so worst case, give me a holler. Otherwise, I'll be back up here around six." He finished to note that Celia was just giving him a vague nod of her head, and was already studying the books on the shelves. He just shook his head and turned to leave. "Yeah, that's the reaction I should have expected..." He mumbled to himself, fishing the bag of Skittles out of his pocket, and popping a cherry flavored one into his mouth. Well, no use complaining over it. He had a door to lock, and still more than half of a library to clean.

_**A/N:**Well, that's chapter one. I will be doing my best to keep this story updated on a semi-regular basis, but with the way life is sometimes. I can make no promises. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to review it._


	2. If it Wasn't for Bad Luck

_Disclaimer: I still do not claim to own anything pertaining to the World of Darkness. Also, as this is a work of fiction, any resemblance to real people, places, or events is purely coincidental._

_**A/N: **So, I know the story may be starting out rather slow. I apologize. Also, my update schedule is a bit wonky, as the only time I seem to be able to write exists in a sweet spot where I have to be tired enough to come up with the ideas, and the flow, but still awake enough to utilize the English language. It's not an easy balance._

_Chapter 2: If it Wasn't for Bad Luck..._

_**Ah, luck. That fickle force that seems to affect so many aspects of our lives. Personally, I was never very lucky. Well, allow me to amend that statement; I was an incredibly lucky individual, but only because bad luck was still technically luck. I guess there were some benefits to it; I learned to roll with the punches. I learned to take a fall. And I learned to improvise the shit out of a plan that would inevitably fall apart. It's funny, because my luck was almost predictably bad. But I would still be caught off guard from time to time. Usually by the worst kind of bad luck; the misfortune of simply being in the wrong place, at the wrong time.**_

_**-**_**Second undated entry from the journal of Trevor Reed.**

_Month: July / Date: 29th / Year: 1997_

_Dear Journal,_

_This last week has been kind of strange. I ran into a girl after hours in the library. Unlike all those Hollywood movies, there wasn't an awkward moment followed an instant connection. There were just a lot of stand alone awkward moments. But, that's not the weirdest part. She's been back in three more nights since my initial run-in with her. To make things even weirder, I brought it up to Mr. Crestmere after the second time, and he seemed totally fine with her being in there. I don't think I've ever seen Mr. Crestmere be totally fine with anything. Ever._

_And she's always in the same section, where we keep the books on myths and folklore. I figure maybe she has some kind of assignment due for classes or whatever, but I'm not sure what kind of class would require a working knowledge of Bigfoot and vampires._

_And yeah, I've tried to make polite conversation with her. Just, you know, when I'm in the same area. But I find it rather hard to do. If she's busy reading, which is common, I'm lucky to get noticed. And the few times she's not busy, like when she's in the process of transferring books to or from the shelves, I still find it difficult to talk to her. And not just because I lack any practice or skill at the art of conversing. Last time I talked to her, she asked me if I was aware of the difference between a common European myth vampire and a Jing Shi, or something. It was some oriental sounding word I've never heard and couldn't even pronounce. I think it was at that point I admitted defeat and went back to my vacuuming._

_And what's sad is, I keep trying. I guess it's just nice to have company, or pretend to at any rate. Especially since that library is still a creepy place at night, and I still feel like I'm being watched. Even more so now. I know it's childish, but there's not a lot I can do about it, it seems._

_Anyways, it was nice to actually have something to write about for a change. I think I'll celebrate by grilling some cheese sandwiches and making a pot of tomato soup. Dinner of kings, I'm telling you._

_-TR_

The past few days had been an exercise in frustration, as Trevor found himself in a pitched battle with the diabolical public transportation system. Between buses running late, running early, and on at least one occasion, not running at all, he'd been struggling to find a way to reliably make it to work on time.

The eventual solution was finally found. All he had to do was catch a bus roughly an hour early, and then kill time until his shift started.

And that's why he was currently sitting in the library, a book open in front of him to give the illusion that he was reading. It's not that he didn't like to read. He just hadn't had much time for it lately. Or much motivation, for that matter. No, the real reason for the act was because he needed to keep an eye out for Mr. Crestmere. He didn't really want to put in an extra twenty minutes of unpaid work time, which is exactly what he would end up doing if Mr. Crestmere caught him here.

He did kind of wish he could spend a bit of time actually reading, however. He had managed to sneak his way up to the myths and folklore section, and had been hoping to do some actual reading. Sure, the content itself may not have appealed to him all that much, but he was kind of tired of looking like a dumb-ass whenever Celia arrived. An occurrence that had happened more often than not this past week.

"Ah, Mr. Reed. Glad to see you here early for once. The water fountain sprung a leak. It would be much appreciated if you would see to that." Trevor cringed at the sound of the voice coming from just behind him. He had gotten so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he forgot to keep an eye out for the elderly head librarian. And the tone of voice being used was one that left little doubt it was about as much of a request as the Spanish Inquisition was a fair trial.

"Yeah, I guess I'd better get on that..." Trevor said, closing the book he had been using as a cover. Apparently it had something to do with case studies into cryptozoology. He kind of wished he'd actually read it now, just so he had a clue what the hell that word meant. He also made sure to put the book back on the shelf, right where he had found it from. He could feel Mr. Crestmere's eyes on him as he moved. The man may be old, but he had eyes like a hawk and ears like a dog. At least whenever it came to any wrongdoing in his library.

* * *

The vacuum cleaner cut off, and Trevor took a moment to look around the second floor. He was currently standing amidst the fantasy novels. And from where he was standing he could see Celia sitting in her usual chair, surrounded by the books she seemed so intent to study. It seemed kind of cute at first, but lately it'd been seeming almost creepy. He couldn't imagine any sane person having that kind of interest in those topics.

Maybe that was why he still had that entire half of the second floor left to work on. Or maybe it was because he knew that, despite what history has already taught him, he'd try to make conversation with her as soon as he was within range only to be ignored, or asked a question which did little more to call into light his ignorance and immediately end the verbal exchange.

Either way, he couldn't keep putting it off. He was already running late. He rolled his eyes at the thought. He showed up twenty minutes early, and is still behind on his work. And all because of that damned drinking fountain. It was like the thing had become not only sentient, but malicious to boot. He shook the thoughts from his head, deciding to ponder what infernal hell-pit spawned that demonic machine later.

His eyes moved back to the vacuum cleaner, then across to the table where Celia was sitting, and he finally sighed. There were still windows on this half of the second floor he could clean. He knew he was grasping at straws now, but after his struggle earlier, he really didn't want to suffer any further embarrassment if he could help it.

And so, armed with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex, he started towards the nearest window. And promptly stopped. That feeling was back, that creeping along his spine, the sensation of being watched. And it was a lot worse. So much so he actually started to shiver. He whipped his head around quickly, looking around the library. But the only other person present was Celia and she was still reading. Not even looking his direction.

Trevor wasn't sure what was going on. He wasn't the superstitious sort, which was what enabled him to take this job in the first place. Everyone else seemed to be put off by rumors of the place being haunted or what have you. And he usually trusted his instincts. Hell, when things went wrong as often as they did in his life, it was a bit of a requirement. But this was new, and he wasn't entirely sure what was going on.

As it turned out, his instincts were spot on. The handful of seconds he paused to look around and try to figure out what was bugging him kept him from closing the distance to the window. A window which abruptly burst inward as a man came crashing through it. Instinctively, Trevor turned to face the sound, while ducking slightly and flinching backwards. That was about all the reaction he was allowed before the man closed the distance.

Trevor found that, in certain situations, something changes with the way time flows. He's never figured out if time slows down, or your mind just accelerates due to the adrenaline in your system. This was one of those situations. Trevor found himself able to take in the form of the man who stood almost a full foot taller than he did, and probably weighed three times as much. The set to his face, somewhere between angry and determined. The cold blue eyes, and buzz-cut dark hair. And yet, despite taking all of this in, he didn't have time to react in any way, before the man swung an arm casually, and Trevor found himself idly noting that his feet were no longer planted on the floor.

The pain in his ribs made itself known about the same time he collided with the bookshelf. And then time seemed to catch up with him, as he found himself holding his chest, curled up over himself as a rain of books came falling down around him, rebounding off his back. It was then he discovered a new found hatred for hardcover books.

He lifted his head, his eyes watering, and his lungs struggling to reclaim some of the air that was stolen from them. Thankfully, he was used to being knocked around a bit. One of the few boons of being a target for bullies in school. And the fact that sometimes gravity itself seemed like it was out to get him helped, in its own weird way.

The scene presented before him was not a good one. The man seemed to be after Celia, who was trying to flee with a book clutched firmly to her chest. _'Man, I really hope she doesn't leave with that book. Between that, the bookshelf, and the three broken windows, Mr. Crestmere will waste no time shit-canning my ass... Wait... Three?'_ His thoughts, and attention were suddenly snagged by the fact that two more of the windows had been smashed, and that the man giving chase to Celia was no longer doing it alone.

Trevor forced himself to his feet, wincing and coughing at the sharp pains in his chest, and staggered over to the railing, using it to support himself. He knew he wouldn't be much help. He wasn't much of a fighter, and he was already sore. But maybe he could call for help? The closest phone was at the information desk. He could see it from here.

_'Figures, the cellphone age, and you've got to be the only dumb bastard without one'_, he chided himself mentally as he made his way towards the stairs, using the balcony rail for support. He didn't get too far though, before a sound froze him where he stood. A terrified shriek, followed by a resounding sound somewhere between a crack and a thud. He turned to look, and saw Celia laying on the ground floor unmoving. Her three pursuers standing by the railing on the second floor. And if that wasn't bad enough, one of them looked up, directly at him.

He staggered back, terrified, finding himself tripping over the vacuum cleaner from earlier, and sprawling on his back. He rolled to his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet, trying to run, when he felt a hand grab him. Was he really moving that slow? They were on the other side of the library only a moment ago, weren't they?

He found himself hoisted to his feet, and shoved back towards the railing. He lost his footing on the way, and stumbled forward, his forehead colliding with the bannister in a spark of white-hot pain. He could tell without even feeling the afflicted area, that he was bleeding. Again he was brought to his feet, and then lifted into the air by a hand around his neck. _'Figures. I finally get the air back into my lungs, and someone wants to choke it out of me'._

"Hey, boss! Looks like we got us a looky-loo. Want me to deal with him?" Trevor probably would have been more fascinated by the fact that the voice of his assailant seemed decidedly feminine, if his life was not literally hanging in the balance. In the meantime, he attentions were focused on trying to get free. However, his attempts to pry her fingers from his neck was proving futile at best.

"No. We have what we came here for." A deep voice said from the ground floor. Trevor had finally given up trying to break free, and decided to instead try to wipe the blood from his eyes. This allowed him to see the smirk that crossed the deep onyx lips of the woman who held him. "Aww... Well, you heard the boss. Lucky you. But he didn't say I had to put you down gently..."

And the Trevor was floating. He had been vaguely aware of the sound of breaking wood, and a dull pain in his back. He was aware of the crimson color that was again seeping into his field of vision, marring the pale face, surrounded by raven black tresses that looked down at him with a sadistic light in its green eyes as it pulled further into the distance. He was aware that time was once again not acting as it should. And he had a brief moment of clarity, just enough for a solitary thought.

_'This is really going to fucking hurt...'_

**A/N: So, there's chapter two. I tried to have it up earlier, but between work, sleep, and crippling writer's block I just never managed to get it to come out right. I'm still not entirely satisfied with how it came out, but I promised myself I would see this through. Hopefully some of you at least enjoyed it. Anyways, reviews are appreciated though not required. And for those of you who may be wondering where I'm going with this. That's a good question and I will let you know as soon as I figure it out.**


	3. Unpleasant Wake Up Call

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own any the World of Darkness. This is a non-profit fan-made story.

**A/N:** So, I apologize for the delay in updating. Things got a bit crazy. Anyways, this chapter may be a bit different than my usual format. Nothing too serious I hope. As it is, feel free to read and review.

_**Chapter 3: **Unpleasant Wake Up Call_

Trevor didn't really know what was going on. Only that he was running late. He wasn't even sure for what. Work, he supposed, but that didn't seem right. He was trying to run down the street, to make up for time lost when the bus swerved off the road and into a light post. He knew he should have been more concerned. There were people on that bus, after all. But he was running late, for something very, very important.

Over the tops of the other buildings, he could see the library, the large clock set into its steeple clicked forward another minute, sounding the large bells to echo through the streets. Wait... Had the library always been so tall? And since when did it have a a giant clock? He slowed his run, his head starting to feel oddly fuzzy, like it couldn't hold onto the images and sounds he was seeing around him. A dull buzzing started somewhere in the back of his head with such intensity that it caused his vision to blur.

He stumbled, losing his footing and pitching forward. He threw his arms forward to brace himself, but the harsh sensation of the asphalt tearing the flesh of his palms never came. Instead, he found himself tumbling end over end through black space. He could swear he heard a dark laugh following his descent.

* * *

Trevor opened his eyes, and immediately slammed them shut again as he became aware of one thing, and one thing only at the moment. He was in pain. A lot of it. Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Right now, the simple act of being conscious hurt. He supposed he could be thankful he was still alive; years of gravity making him its bitch had given him an instinctual knack for trying to minimize damage during a fall. And he vaguely wondered that if this was what minimized damage felt like, he would have probably opted for the 'death' option. At least death is supposed to be painless.

"'Ey, Crestmere! Yer boy's awake!" A deep, loud, and thickly accented voice called through the library. The volume of it making Trevor wince and try to move his hands to his head. As it turns out, this was a mistake, as every fiber in his upper back protested the action fiercely, forcing a pained groan up through Trevor's lips.

The sound of footsteps drove home another point. Specifically, that the man had called out for Mr. Crestmere. Trevor figured he was about to find a whole new definition for the term 'in a world of shit'. How the hell was he going to explain to his boss what happened. Would the old man even believe him? Probably not. Hell, Trevor wouldn't be surprised if he found himself with charges pressed against him just because his boss was feeling extra spiteful that day.

Before he could finish composing his mental will, he found the heavily lined face of Mr. Crestmere staring down at him with a glare that he was pretty sure could make the devil himself cringe away. "Mr. Reed..." He started, and while his tone was usually stern, what Trevor was hearing now was a whole new level, and it actually caused Trevor to swallow nervously and dart his eyes around instinctively, looking for an exit. "I want you to explain to me why I had to come to my library in the middle of the night to find toppled shelves of books, multiple broken windows, a destroyed stair bannister, and my janitor taking a nap in the middle of my lobby..."

Trevor was pretty sure he was already up shit creek, and while a lot of people find themselves enjoying the ride without a paddle, Trevor was getting the feeling that he hadn't even bothered with the canoe for this trip.

He took a breath to try to explain what happened, an action that sent pain lancing through his back and ribs, and causing him to wish he could simply return to the sweet embrace of unconsciousness. Alas, that did not seem to be forthcoming. So, after squeezing his eyes shut and trying to focus on anything but the pain, he tried again.

"I..." He started, before he realized he wasn't sure where to start. It was hard to gather one's thoughts in a situation such as this, it would appear. Especially since the whole situation seemed crazy to him. And if it seemed crazy to him, he could only imagine how someone with no seeming sense of humor or imagination would perceive it. But, the man wanted an explanation...

"I was just doing my job... Vacuuming the second floor... Next thing I know, the window breaks, and some big scary guy is stalking through the library... He swats me away like I'm some kind of insect and heads off after Celia..." At this point, Mr. Crestmere held up a hand to silence him. Trevor didn't like the implications. Being cut off like this usually meant he was about to call bullshit on your story, and Trevor did not want to think on what consequences that would lead to.

"You say they were after Celia? Tell me, did you get a good look at the book she was reading?" Hearing these words coming from Mr. Crestmere's mouth left Trevor struck dumb. He had been expecting the old man to call him a liar. To yell angrily about the destruction done, to threaten lawsuit after lawsuit. This was honestly not something he expected to hear.

"I... Well.. Not really... It was sorta' big, with a hard cover... Blue, I think... It was kind of hard to tell. I was still on the other side of the library..." Any hope Trevor may have felt from Mr. Crestmere accepting his words immediately vanished as the man's face contorted into one angrier than he had ever seen before. Thankfully the old man didn't say anything further to him, just turning to walk away, occasionally calling something out to some of the other people that were there. Trevor wasn't surprised. He figured the police or maybe the paramedics would be there. But still, not many people were so blatantly disrespectful to talk like that to a law enforcement officer.

"Well now, tha' coulda' gone bettah." The accented voice from earlier said, before the man it belonged to leaned over him and allowed him to place a face with the name. If Trevor had to guess, he'd say the man was probably in his late twenties. Probably military, given the blonde crew cut, and the fact that he seemed to be missing a neck, amidst the muscles of his shoulders. "You feelin' alrigh' mate?"

Trevor tried to manage a smile. Not a really easy task. "Oh yeah... Peachy keen. I just got dropped off the second floor of a library, and will probably end up losing my job. I figure about one industrial accident away from having the perfect day." He said, the sarcasm in his voice competing with the pain for dominance. The other man just chuckled.

"Well, it's nice ya' go' a sense o' humor abou' it." The man looked around the library, and Trevor tried to lift his head to look around as well. While he was able to deal with the pain as long as he was still, moving created a whole new kind of hurt. He was actually pretty sure if he could put words to it, aside from the string of obscenities that passed his lips, he could actually use it to redefine the word 'pain'. The man turned his attention back to him as this happened. "'Ey now, take it easy." He said, though Trevor realized the words were unnecessary. After all, after that experience, he was in no hurry to rush.

At least he wasn't until he heard the familiar footfalls of Mr. Crestmere returning. "Mr. Reed..." If Trevor closed his eyes, it really didn't take all that much imagination for him to picture the grim reaper standing over him, reading his name from 'the list'. "It seems there is much you don't know about. We will have to remedy this." Trevor opened his eyes, not sure what to make of these words. If Mr. Crestmere noticed, he didn't let on, instead pressing on with what he had been saying. "Like it or not, Mr. Reed, you have gotten yourself tangled up in something far bigger than you can possibly imagine. And your ignorance is now a glaring weakness..."

_'Wow...' _ Trevor thought wryly. _'He must be the go to guy for pep-talks and inspirational speeches...'_

"You will begin your training next week." This snapped Trevor out of his musings and back into reality. The word 'training' had never set well with him. It always brought to mind images of his high-school Phys Ed teacher. The man was an ex-marine apparently, and somehow seemed to forget that the students in his class weren't. "Douglas..." Mr. Crestmere continued, his voice forcing aside the unpleasant memories of gym classes past. "Please see to Mr. Reed's recovery. I will be working on a schedule."

The sound of Mr. Crestmere walking away was interrupted by the face of the man who was apparently Douglas. The expression on his face could only really be described as one of pity. "Tough break, mate..." He said simply, but Trevor wasn't paying much attention. He'd tried once more to sit up, to try to get Mr. Crestmere's attention. To ask what the fuck was going on. Unfortunately, it was a bad move, as the pain screamed through his back, shoulders, and neck. He couldn't get out more than a pained gasp, before he found himself slumping over, not quite unconscious, but the blackness encroaching on the edge of his vision let him know that it wasn't far off.

_'Great... What pile of shit did the universe drop me into now?'_ He didn't have long to think about this question, before the blackness consumed him.

**I don't pretend to know how the universe works. I don't pretend to understand luck, or karma or any of it. I don't think I would want to given the chance. I guess I'm worried that if I did, I'd see the universe for the sadistic, uncaring monster it really is as it hides behind collective ignorance.**

**-Random Excerpt from the Journal of Trevor Reed**

**A/N: **So, there it is. I'll try to keep my updates a bit more timely, but I can't really promise much. Let me know what you think. Or don't. Up to you really.


	4. Hunting 101

_**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the World of Darkness, nor am I making any profit from this story. I would have thought the first four chapters would have clarified this already.

**A/N: **So, another update. I apologize that they're spaced out and random. Finding time is tricky. And finding the right words to tell the story is even worse. Anyways, hope you enjoy it, and feel free to review.

_Chapter 4: Hunting 101_

_**You here a lot of people talk about Hell. About how it's such a bad place, or maybe a situation? The lines tend to get a bit blurred depending on the use of the word. But there's a few things that some people don't seem to realize. I'm not saying that Hell is not bad. I'm just saying that I doubt it's the be-all end-all bad situation people make it out to be. Trust me, there are things worse than Hell. Preparing to go through Hell is one of these.**_

**-Third undated entry from the journal of Trevor Reed**

_Month: August / Date: 13th / Year: 1997_

_Dear Journal,_

_I realize that I haven't exactly been staying on top of things lately when it comes to making entries, but I guess I have a good reason for this. A week or so ago, the library was broken into. It wasn't a fun experience. The individuals responsible took Celia and a book she had with her, and left me in a pretty roughed up state. I guess it could have been worse._

_I'm still not entirely sure what's going on. The group that came in after the incident are all acquaintances of Mr. Crestmere, and I'm not sure how much I can trust them._

_I'm also a bit worried about the state of their mental health. It surprises me that Mr. Crestmere would associate with people like these. Seriously, I saw one of them, Mitchell I think his name was, working on a camcorder. When I asked him what he was doing, he told me he was applying a special coating to the lens, and rewiring some of the circuits so that it could accurately pick-up video footage of vampires._

_How do you respond to that? I mean, I can understand enjoying mythology, but when you're starting to tinker with your electronics so that they can pick-up images of crap like this, I think your hobby may have gotten a bit out of hand._

_And all of them are like this. That's also partially why I've been delayed in writing anything. Apparently, after the fiasco at the library, I've gotten myself tangled up in this. And so they've taken it upon themselves to train me, so that next time I'll be able to fend for myself._

_I don't exactly like the fact that they're so sure there will be a next time..._

_-TR_

Trevor closed the small leather-bound journal and set the pen down, picking up the ice pack next to it, and placing it over his right eye, which was swelling nicely, and would leave him a rather ugly looking shiner. One of the individuals here had been appointed to train him in hand to hand combat. And she took great delight in doing so.

Rebecca was all of five-foot six, and maybe about one-hundred-seventy-four pounds. This was, understandably awkward for Trevor, who had never been one for fighting to begin with, but had also never raised his hand to a woman in his life. The awkwardness of that was soon replaced by the awkwardness of getting one's ass thoroughly whipped by a person who's smaller than you. Especially since Trevor was not an especially big person to begin with.

He winced at the memory of their most recent encounter. He still had yet to land a solid blow on her, and he'd been trying, having discarded his stance on hitting a woman around the time she split his lip, bloodied his nose, and planted her foot firmly in his family jewels. And that was almost a week ago. Today's session involved him missing a left cross, and catching her knee in his ribs for his trouble, and then her elbow in the side of his head twice, and then things got a bit blurry and all he could really remember was hearing a few of the others laughing as he tried to push himself off the floor while struggling to remember exactly how he got there.

"Hey mate, ya' alrigh' in 'ere?" Trevor turned his head, spotting a familiar face leaning against the doorway of the little room they had supplied him here, though he wasn't entirely sure where here was. About all he could gather was that it was some large house, like a mansion maybe, but designed less with the intent of showing off one's opulence, and just so it had the room required for everything that needed doing.

"Oh, hey Douglas. Yeah, I'm fine, just, you know tending to a concussion and wishing I had some money for the pool. Next time, put me down for ten against me." He said, smiling a bit despite the stinging from his split lip. Douglas had been one of the few individuals he found he could talk to around here. Many of the others were so wrapped up in what they were doing, like Mitchell, or were just downright scary, like Rebecca.

Douglas chuckled, shaking his head, and running his hand back through his short cropped hair. "Yeah, well, don' be so 'ard yer'self mate. I think ya' may 'ave impressed Becca."

Trevor could only give the man a disbelieving stare, the effect of which was slightly diminished by the ice pack covering almost half of his face. "Yeah, I bet she's never before seen a man who actively blocks incoming attacks with his face."

Douglas laughed at this, his broad shoulders shaking. "Yer som'thin' else mate. But no, I mean it. We've all had a bout against 'er, ya' know, fer a bi' o' fun. No one envy's ya' 'avin' ta' train wit' 'er. But, even though they migh' 'ave a laugh at yer' expense, very few of 'em were able ta' get back on their own feet afterward."

Trevor just shook his head. "Eh, I doubt that. But, you trying to lift my spirits aside, what's up? I don't often see you guys just stopping by to say hi."

At the question, Douglas looked decidedly nervous, one of his hands moving to the back of his neck, and his blue eyes looked at everything in the room but Trevor, which was decidedly very little.

"Abou' that... Umm... Okay mate, 'ere's th' deal. The boss is sayin' tha' ya' need some first-'and experience. Ya' know, concernin' the sor' of things we deal with... So, I'm 'ere ta' escort ya' to meet up wit' tha' rest of the team goin' out tonigh'. Honestly, I'd rather see ya' get in some more trainin' first, but I'm not in charge o' that. So, we'll 'ead down, get ya' some gear, and meet up with tha others..."

Trevor did not like the sound of that. He was still sore, and now he was being informed that he would be accompanying a group of possibly unstable individuals as they went out to hunt for the things that go bump in the night? But then, he doubted trying to say no was a good idea. He finally sighed in resignation. "Alright... Let's just get this over with, I guess..."

* * *

Trevor was trying really, really hard to keep his cool. It was not an easy task, by any stretch of the imagination. So, they told him he'd be along for this mission. Fine. He figured he'd probably be sitting in the car, watching to see how it was done, so he didn't get in the way. You know, a take notes kind of lesson, with the hands on part just meaning he was there personally.

What he was not expecting was to be sitting at the bar in a local club, dressed in what he assumed to be appropriate attire (He'd never had much cause to go into a club in his life. How was he supposed to know?), ordering a drink and trying to look 'as much like a victim as possible'. Yeah, tonight's lesson: hands on experience could eat a dick.

Just then an electric crackle buzzed in his ear, followed by a quiet voice speaking through the receiver he wore in his ear. "You know, the scowl you're wearing isn't going to make you very approachable. Lighten up a bit." Trevor took a deep breath, wishing he could somehow reach through the small electronic device and throttle Mitchell.

The voice continued however, interrupting his pleasant thought process. "Anyways, we got one pinged at the bar, about three seats down from you. Off to your left."

Trevor turned his head, only to be interrupted. "No, no, your other left. Or, maybe my left. Sorry, I guess I got those confused." Trevor paused for a moment, trying to get to find any sort of frame of reference or context to take that in, before just giving up and turning his head the other way.

"Yeah, the brunette with the black t-shirt and necklace. Anyways, we need you to try to charm her into taking you somewhere 'more private' before we can move in."

Trevor fought the urge to facepalm. And now he wished he had taken the time to figure out just where Mitch was watching him from, so he could cast a deadpan stare in that direction. Trevor had all the charm of a brick on a good day, and they expected him to lure a female woman away from a bar. And why, because she was supposedly a vampire? This whole situation was just nuts.

He turned his attention back to the woman in question, part of him trying to think of a way to break the ice, and the rest of him wondering if he should even be doing this to begin with. It also didn't help that his face was still a bit of a mess from earlier.

His mind started to race through different scenarios. None of them seemed to fit though. That was the problem with Hollywood, things worked because they're scripted to. And the men making the approach are all at least moderately attractive. Last time he checked, he fell a bit short of that mark, landing somewhere in 'Average Joe' territory.

He hadn't realized he'd been staring the whole time he'd tried to gather his thoughts, until his eyes met the woman's and he realized he'd been caught staring. Well, not exactly staring, but he doubted that the semantics would be of much concern. Not sure what else to do, he just offered a nod, and turned his attention back to the bar, suddenly finding an interest in the wooden bar top.

"You must be new at this?" A voice from his right drew his attention back up, and he found that the woman in question was sitting right next to him, looking at him curiously. Trevor was taken aback, not sure what 'this' she was referring to him being new at. There were quite a few tonight.

"Uh, well... I... Guess..?" Trevor winced internally at that. _'Yeah, about as smooth as sand-paper...'_

The woman continued to look him over. "You know, you'd almost fool most people. The clothes fit the mood, but it's obvious you've never been to a club before in your life."

Trevor suddenly wished he had spent his time at the bar actually consuming alcohol. It wouldn't keep him from making an ass of himself, but it might at least make him less likely to care. He instead offered a sheepish grin, and a somewhat apologetic shrug. "Eh, you got me. A few of my friends decided to drag me out tonight... It'd been kind of a rough day." He said, indicating his bruised face. "So, they got me dressed up, dragged me out here, and promptly went off to have a good time. I'm not even sure if they're still around, so I'll probably be calling for a cab here in a bit."

The woman continued to eye him critically, before a slight smile graced her lips. "I find that hard to believe. You don't seem to be the sort to have friends."

Trevor blinked at that. Not so much about the statement itself, but the fact that it was not a wholly inaccurate one. "Oh, ouch... Way to kick a man while he's down."

This actually caused her to chuckle, shaking her head. "Well, you were the one staring at me. You know most men would have just walked over and said something. Introduced themselves, offered to buy a drink, hell, some may have even tried a lame pick-up line."

Trevor froze for a second, trying to grasp at a reasonable excuse. It was not as easy as he had hoped. He ran a hand through his hair, working over what he was going to say. "Yeah, I kind of didn't mean to... I was just..." A gleam of light caught his eyes, and his gaze shifted swiftly to the silver necklace she was wearing. "I was looking at your necklace." He nodded at the piece of jewelry. "Well, not exactly staring at it... I mean, I saw it and the design was rather interesting. It just looked familiar for some reason, and I found myself trying to remember if I'd seen it anywhere before... Kind of got lost in my own head I guess, playing hide and seek with random bits of trivia..."

At this the woman's smile grew to a full blown grin. "You know, most guys usually have a better excuse for staring at my tits. Would you care to try again, or are you standing by your story?"

Trevor opened his mouth to say something, before realizing he really had nothing to say, so he lifted his drink to his lips, took a sip, and shrugged. "It's the best I got right now. I guess I'll have to stick with it."

He blinked slightly at a new sensation. Her hand holding his, tugging his arm lightly. The odd thing was how cool her skin felt against his. "C'mon newbie. Let's get you accustomed to the club scene. Next stop, the dance floor."

Trevor cringed at that, and while not actively pulling his hand away from hers, he wasn't exactly thrilled with the concept. She seemed to have noticed, and turned back around to look at him. "C'mon, don't you want to dance with me?" She added with a slight pout on her lips. Trevor for his part offered his apologetic chuckle.

"Well, it's not that... I just... Well, I dance in the same way that driving a car through someone's wall could be called home renovation..."

She paused for a moment, and then laughed, giving his arm a stronger tug. "C'mon. You can't be that bad..."

* * *

Roughly seven minutes later, Trevor was seated at the bar again, a bag of ice over the eye that wasn't blacked when he walked into the club. The woman from earlier sat next to him, shaking her head in disbelief. "Wow... I guess you really are that bad..."

Trevor for his part just shook his head. "Yeah, thanks for pointing that out..." He said, lifting his gaze from the floor to look at her. "Look, sorry for ruining your night... It's getting kind of late, and I'm thinking I should probably call it a night... You know, before my mere presence causes something else to go horribly wrong..."

She looked from him over to the area where the DJ had been set-up, wincing slightly. "I'm sure it's not a big deal. They should have everything fixed in a few hours, tops. Besides..." She said, leaning in close. "Your company wasn't that bad. And there's still one more thing we haven't touched on yet..." Her voice had taken a bit of a seductive tone, and Trevor found himself unsure how to respond. Tonight was definitely a night of firsts.

"Uhh.. I'm not sure I follow..." He said simply, and it wasn't exactly a lie. He was in such foreign territory that he had no idea how to react.

She rolled her teal eyes, smirking a bit at Trevor's naivety. "I'm not sure if you're jerking me around or not. I'm saying, since your day has not been going so well, how about I see what I can do to help you out with it? Maybe somewhere a bit more private?"

Trevor paused at hearing this. On the one hand, this would normally be a crowning achievement in his life. On the other hand, regardless of what she may have intended, Trevor was pretty sure that any kind of physical intimacy was not going to happen. Especially since even if she did have the intent, he had a group of people watching to make sure he did what he was supposed to do.

The more he thought about it, the more absurd the whole situation was. Could he really go through with this? I mean, from what he could tell tonight, she was just a normal woman he'd met at a club that had found his awkwardness charming? Well, charming may have been to strong a word. Endearing? Amusing? _'Crap, I'm zoning out again!'_

"Uh... Yeah, sure... But, I think I'm going to hit the restroom first..." He said hastily, standing and making his way across the club to the restroom. As he did so, he found Mitchell's voice in his ear again.

"I'm not sure whether to call that a good play or not. I guess it hinges on whether or not you were acting the whole time. Either way, the whole 'pitiable person' act is working for you. Anyways, we have the team ready to move as soon as everything is set into motion."

Trevor grumbled, wishing the receiver hadn't been strictly one way as he finished his business and washed his hands. He took a deep breath, and reached into one of his pockets. Inside was a little vial of a clear liquid. Douglas had given it to him before they had left, and told him that if everything went according to plan, to drink it about three minutes before there was any 'alone time' with the target.

That time seemed to be now. He opened the top and downed the contents of the vial. It had a sickly sweet taste, and seemed to create an icy hot feeling in the pit of his stomach. They had promised that it wouldn't kill him, but now he found himself second guessing that. Maybe they did want him dead, and just had some overly elaborate way of going about it. Well, if he did die, he'd have plenty of time to worry about it then. In the meantime, he had a task to complete. He wasn't too keen on it, but he had a feeling if he failed, they'd find new and more inventive ways to 'train' him. The idea was less than appealing.

He made his way back to the bar, honestly a bit surprised to see the woman still standing there, waiting for him. She turned to look at him and smiled. "Well, it took you long enough. Come on." She said, turning to lead him from the bar. Trevor followed, but was slightly concerned. Things had started to get a little wavy and blurry at the edges of his vision.

Outside the bar, the woman led Trevor to her car. She may have been saying something, but Trevor wasn't exactly catching all of it. The icy hot feeling had changed to something much warmer, and was spreading through his body. However, it was making him rather lightheaded. He shook his head a little bit, and then noticed she had asked him a question. "Huh? I'm sorry... I guess the drinks I had are catching up with me... Not used to drinking..." She laughed.

"A lightweight, huh?" She said, opening the door for him. "That's okay. I just said that we didn't have to wait. There's not a lot of people on the streets, and I'm in the mood for something a bit... exciting."

Trevor found himself smiling like an idiot. "Well, that sounds good to me..." He said, making his way to her car, miraculously not faceplanting on the way. Upon climbing into the passenger seat, he found his lap shortly after occupied by his company for the evening. To call her eager may have been a bit of an understatement, and it caught the inexperienced young man completely off guard.

Her lips were pressed tightly against his, her tongue having found its way into his mouth, was currently claiming dominance over his, which had not been expecting such an attack. Her hands pressed against his chest, pinning him back against the seat, while his had settled on her waist, not sure exactly what to do with themselves.

It didn't take long before she was grinding her hips against his, causing him to draw in a sharp breath, as she moaned against his lips. Trevor was actually idly thinking that he may have enjoyed this, if everything wasn't getting so swirly and distorted. He broke away from the kiss, his head lolling back against the headrest of her car, his eyes staring at the ceiling in a glassy way. He barely noticed the seductive grin she gave him, or the way she started to leave a trail of kisses down his jaw and onto his neck. He wasn't even aware of her fangs as they sank into the side of his neck.

* * *

Trevor was not happy. He was currently drinking his fifth glass of orange juice, and eating a cookie. He felt, more or less, like he had just gone through a hazing ritual of some sort. And to make things worse, he wasn't entirely sure of the details. He could remember that he had gotten in her car, that things had gotten more heated than he had experienced in a while, and then he was in the van with a killer headache, feeling a bit weak, and on the way back to base with a bound and drugged woman along for the ride. He had actually freaked out a bit at this, since kidnapping was illegal on a federal level. But he wasn't in a state to do much.

As it turned out, the video surveillance of the night's activities found itself being broadcast throughout the base, and many of the people there (read as: everyone but Trevor himself) found it to be quite chuckle-worthy. Okay, that's not accurate. Two people had actually laughed until they were on the brink of passing out, and he was sure they would still be laughing about this tomorrow. However, there was some other footage that they showed him. It was taken when they had gotten to the car to pull him and the woman out. And while Trevor wanted to deny it, the fact was right there on video. She had bitten the side of his neck, and had been drinking his blood. Of course, whatever cocktail of drugs they had given him had done a doozy on her as well.

"'Ey, c'mon now, cheer up! I mean, it's not like ya' died or anythin'." Trevor turned his head to look at Douglas, who was once again leaning against the doorway to his room.

"Forgive me for being surly... I just found out that either A) People are crazier than I initially thought, or B) There are things that go bump in the night. I ended up playing the role of both a pawn and a blood donor tonight, and whatever the fuck drug that was, I don't think it's entirely flushed from my system yet... I'm tired, sore, and feeling a bit like I got blatantly lied to."

Douglas rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, when ya' say it like tha', sure it sounds bad." The larger man suddenly turned his head to Trevor, a devious smile on his lips. "But, the reason I'm 'ere is ta let ya know tha' yer gonna' wanna' good nigh's rest. Ye've got some special trainin' in the mornin'."

Trevor felt his blood run cold, a sensation that usually meant whatever was coming next had bad news written all over it. However, before he could voice any questions, Douglas had disappeared, vanishing back into the depths of the base. Having few other options, Trevor decided to get some rest. It wasn't easy. He was worried about this new training, and he also couldn't help but wonder what they had planned for the vampire from the club. That thought was actually the more troubling one.

**A/N: **So, yeah, there it is, a shiny new chapter. Well, I'm not sure how shiny it is. I also apologize with writing Douglas' speech. I'm trying to portray the accent, but I have very, very little experience with it. I may end up having to edit it all out at a later date if it becomes too difficult to maintain, or too hard to understand. Anyways, I hope you enjoy reading it, and hopefully my next chapter will arrive in a more timely manner. But, I promise nothing.


	5. A Closer Look

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything World of Darkness related, nor am I making a profit from this story._

_**A/N: **_So, this is why I don't make promises. Between the brutal heat, and my ruthless schedule, I have been hard pressed to find either the time or the motivation to sit down and write the next chapter. But, I do thank you that have been reading this story. All five of you.

_Chapter 5: A Closer Look_

_**When you have a lot of time on your hands, you start to watch. You watch people, you watch situations, you watch the environment around you. And as you watch, you start to notice things. Patterns in the ways situations unfold, tells that people have, changes in the environment and what they may mean. But you may not always understand them. Not at first. No, at first, they just strike you as odd. They nag at the back of your mind, but are easily tuned out in favor of other things. But eventually, they will make sense. And that is... It's not always a good thing.**_

_**-**_**Fourth undated entry from the Journal of Trevor Reed**

_Month: August / Date: 14th / Year: 1997_

_Dear Journal,_

_According to my alarm clock, it's only about five in the morning. Trouble sleeping, I guess. It doesn't help that the events yesterday are still weighing on me. At first at was easy to just believe these people were crazy, and if I played along I could find an opening to make a break for it. But, after last night, I'm not sure. Granted, the fact that I ended up drugged during the course of the night probably isn't helping my memory much. But, is it possible they're right about this? Things actually lurking in the night? Preying on humanity? I don't know which scares me more; The fact that I'm a 'guest' to a bunch of nut-jobs, or the fact that these nut-jobs may not be so crazy._

_Apparently, I have some mysterious training today. The actual details were left vague. By which I mean they were omitted completely. I really hope it's not any more combat training. I'm still not much of a fighter, and I'm still sore as hell from the last few training sessions. And after last night, I was really hoping for some time to just lay down and relax. And while I guess they may be willing to take me to the shooting range, I doubt that. My first, and subsequently last visit, ended on a low note. The term 'unmitigated disaster' comes to mind._

_Granted, I've been doing okay with some of the other stuff. A lot of the training comes in the form of studying. I guess that makes sense. It's usually a good idea to know how to fight what you're fighting. This is another part that concerns me though, primarily it supports the theory that maybe, just maybe, they're right about all this. Because they take this very, very seriously. I'd imagine if they were really as unhinged as I initially thought, they wouldn't have such a focus on such a logical step._

_Anyways, got a bit carried away there. It's early, and I'm not quite awake, so I guess I get distracted. But at least I'm doing okay in the occult studies, even if a lot of it still doesn't make sense. And apparently, a lot of the popular beliefs are a bit inaccurate._

_It's too damned early to be trying to wrap my brain around this. I'm probably going to go try to find the kitchen without getting lost. A bag of ice from my head sounds like a sweet deal right now. I mean, it's not like I'm a prisoner, confined to lock down, thankfully. Though I am convinced they will shoot me if I try to make a run for it. You know, the more I think about this, the less sense it seems to make to me._

_-TR_

Trevor closed his journal and tucked it under the mattress of the borrowed cot he slept on. Well, 'mattress' may have been a generous term to use. It was more like a three inch slab of concrete masquerading as something a person could sleep on. Once the journal was stored in its usual, and rather unimaginative, hiding spot, Trevor took a moment to try to work some of the kinks out of his back.

Following a strange routine of twisting, bending, and shaking, accompanied by a symphony of small cracks and pops, Trevor finally opened his door and stepped out into the hallway. Most of the lights were still off, given the early hours, with only enough left on for those who had security detail tonight to see by. The fact that they had a security details had always kind of worried Trevor. He wasn't sure if it was to keep people in, or keep what they hunted out. Neither option filled him with a warm and fuzzy feeling.

He made his way through a few hallways, all of which completely bare. No pictures, no paintings, not even the occasional side-table with a vase of flowers. The stark emptiness made him edgy anytime he walked through the halls. But in the still of the morning, his mind was finally able to grasp why. '_It's like an empty house. You and possibly a dozen other people stay here, but the hallways tell the story of a house where no one lives.' _He thought to himself. He wasn't sure why he should care, but the thought troubled him for some reason.

He'd only made one wrong turn before finding the stairs that led down to the first floor. He took a moment at the foot of the stairs to try to remember where the kitchen was located from his current position. And when he thought he had it figured out, he turned to start walking, only to run face first into what he supposed was a brick wall wearing a human suit. He staggered back, thankfully able to keep himself from landing on his ass, and looked at the individual he had just run into.

He had seen the large man before, even in the dark it was hard to mistake that nasty scar across his face, though the eye-patch also provided a solid clue, but he had never gotten his name. Partially because the man never volunteered it, and mostly because Trevor was convinced that this man was the kind of guy who stomped on necks as a form of greeting.

"Uhh... Yeah, hi..." Trevor said, nervously. The man simply scowled at him with his one good eye, his hand resting on the grip of a rather large handgun. Trevor was pretty sure the man's thought process went something like this: _'Go ahead... Start running, little man...'_

Trevor gulped, his eyes darting around nervously. "Uh, sorry... About uh... About running into you... Just uh... You know... Looking for the uh... Looking for the kitchen... You know, for ice and... Breakfast?" Trevor said, though he had been subconsciously backing up towards the stairs again as he spoke. The man responded this time. Well, it was like a response. Though to be fair, it was more like a non-commital grunt, accompanied by the tilting of his bald head towards one one of the hallways off to Trevor's right.

Trevor merely nodded his head. "Oh, uh... Thank you.. And you have a... A wonderful morning..." Trevor said, turning to make a hasty retreat down the mentioned hallway and escape the cold steel gaze that the man had leveled on him during the entire encounter.

* * *

Trevor was just finishing up his breakfast: A glass of water, a few aspirins, and three slices of buttered toast, when a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder, drawing a wince from him. Both because he was sore, and because he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to try to be social at the moment. It was way, way too early for that.

"An' 'ere I though' ya'd still be lyin' up in bed, whinin' 'bout 'ow sore ya' was. Good ta' see ya' up and movin' mate." Trevor rolled his eyes as Douglas' heavily accented voice filled his ears, before the larger man moved to take a seat on the other side of the table with a glass of orange juice.

"Eh, couldn't sleep." Trevor responded, giving a shrug of his shoulders, and popping the last bite of toast into his mouth.

"Well, I guess tha' makes sense. O' course, ya' prob'ly would 'ave done better 'ad ya' stopped by tha' gym instead. Seriously mate, Becca can only teach ya' 'ow ta' throw a punch. If ya' wanna' do some damage, ye'll need somethin' more than those noodles ya' got attached ta' ya' shoulders." Douglas said, hiding a smirk behind his glass of juice as he took a sip.

Trevor rolled his eyes at the other man's good-natured jab. "Yeah yeah..." He said, shaking his head and trying not to crack a smile himself. It was harder than he'd expected.

"Anyway, Chuck tol' me ya' ran inta' 'im this mornin'. Quite lit'rally. Bloke got a good laugh from it." This caused Trevor to look up quizzically at Douglas.

"Chuck? Oh, you mean the bus with legs?" He asked, thinking back to the intimidating man from the hallway earlier. Douglas, who had been trying to take a sip of his orange juice at the time actually snorted some up his nose when he laughed at the comment.

"Oh fuck, tha' burns..." He said, trying to wipe the juice from his face with his sleeve. "An' yeh' tha'd be Chuck. 'E's not a bad bloke, just a bit, uh... Intense, at times I guess ya' could say. 'E does like ta' put tha' fear o' God inta' the new guys though. Can't blame 'im, I guess. 'E is good at it."

Trevor nodded slowly at that. "Yes... Yes he is." He sat in silence for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "Hey, Douglas... Why are you here? Or any of the others really? I mean, I'm here due to a disastrous case of 'wrong place, wrong time', but I get the feeling that my story isn't the common one..."

Trevor waited for Douglas' answer while he watched the table top. And he waited. The silence dragged on, and finally Trevor raised his head, almost expecting to see that Douglas had left while he wasn't looking. That wasn't the case though. The large man was still there, staring into his half-empty cup of orange juice. The haunted look in his eyes forced Trevor to suppress a shudder. Trevor was preparing to open his mouth again, to apologize for prying, to tell the man to forget it, but Douglas beat him to the punch.

"Actu'ly, yer story is rather common. Jus' with diff'rent twists, I s'pose..." Douglas paused in his explaining to take a drink from his juice before continuing. "All of us 'ere, were in tha' wrong place, at tha' wrong time. I'm not at liberty ta' be discussin' ev'ryone else's problems, ye'll have ta' ask them if ya' wanna' know. But, I guess I can tell ya' mine..." Douglas' gaze shifted to somewhere far distant as he started speaking.

"I was military, as I'm sure ye've prob'ly guessed. Tha' details aren't important... I was ship'd out wit' twelve other men durin' tha' conflicts in tha' Middle East. We were s'posed to be runnin' recon. The place we were sent was dangerous; terrorist cells, civil unrest, it was a nightmare. We'd... We thought we'd found an 'ideout for one of the local cells. Our intel told us there was one in the area, 'ousin' P. . We were prepared to go in, ya' know? Good ol' fashioned jail break... Only, we bit off more'n we could chew... It wasn't a terrorist 'ideout, and the prisoners weren't P. ... We found that out too late. We released a handful of 'em, only to 'ave 'em turn on us. And they was in'uman. I lost twelve friends that day... And to make matters worse, the group that 'ad originally imprisoned tha' monsters decided that as punishment for my recklessness, I would be tasked with tracking down the beasts that got away... It was either that, or they'd kill me where I stood." Douglas paused, raising his glass to his lips and finishing the last of his juice. Trevor wanted to apologize, to ask what happened next, to say anything really, but the silence left in the wake of Douglas' voice seemed oppressive, and carried an unspoken threat of consequences should it be broken prematurely.

"And so I did. I tracked 'em down one at a time... Tha' problem was, they weren't just idly waitin'. When they found out what was goin' on, some of 'em started retaliatin'. Some were sneaky. I found myself under suspicion by people I'd know fer years. I'd 'ad people I went ta' school wit' callin' me a monster. I 'ad the police after me, as I was sud'nly a prime murder suspect... And some were more direct... They went after my fam'ly. My friends. They took everythin' from me, and tha' only reason I kept goin' was because if I didn't stop 'em, I wasn't sure anyone would... It was during this time I met Mr. Crestmere. 'E offered me 'elp. 'E gave me leads, 'e gave me knowledge, and after I finished my penance, 'e gave me somethin' to keep fightin' for..." Douglas' gaze finally focused again on Trevor's face. "And now ya' know what my story is mate."

Trevor nodded, actually feeling like a bit of an asshat after hearing all that. "Well, I guess I have just lost any right I have to complain about my situation here..." He muttered. To his surprise Douglas laughed.

"I wouldn't be givin' that up jus' yet. Unlike tha' rest of us, ya' get to experience tha' joys of a trainin' regiment. Speakin' of which, ya' excited for tha' trainin' this evenin'?" The undertone of mischief in Douglas' voice suddenly set off serious alarm bells in Trevor's head.

"Yeah, sure... I also scheduled a root canal and a complete prostrate exam. You know, just figured I'd make a day out of it..." He said in a deadpan voice, which caused Douglas to laugh uproariously as he took his empty glass to the sink.

* * *

The morning had gone by rather uneventfully, which actually made Trevor a bit jumpy. Normally he was either going through some form of training, or recovering from said training. Today was like a free day, and he found himself literally at a loss with what to do with his new found free time. So, he spent a few hours wandering the large building, and trying to meet the others there.

Trying, as it turned out, is not the same as succeeding. Most of his attempts at conversations had ended with either threats of violence if he continued to be annoying, or a simple "Go away, I'm busy." There were a few exceptions however. Specifically Clarissa, who helped Mitchell in the electronics and surveillance department. She was a shy, tom-boyish red-head who was actually rather difficult to get to speak. However, given that the initial reaction was not as harsh as many others he had received, Trevor was determined to find a way to get her to speak to him. If for no other reason than so he didn't have to try to find Douglas every time he wanted to hold a conversation. His plan was actually a success, and his determination paid off when she started talking to him.

The conversation, however, was very one-sided, and left Trevor feeling like a monkey that had just learned how to imitate human speech. Clarissa was astronomically intelligent. However, she also seemed to lack the understanding that very few people were actually as smart as she was. As a result, Trevor found himself incapable of actually following what she was talking about, and completely unable to offer anything in return. The one upside to this was that Clarissa just seemed thrilled to have someone want to converse with her, and so she talked rather enthusiastically, and didn't seem at all bothered when the best Trevor could offer to some of her questions was a shrug and an awkward smile.

The other notable exception to his attempts at getting to know his new 'teammates' (as wholly inaccurate as that word seemed to be), was Lucas. Lucas, as it turned out, was usually assigned to recon duty, and when he wasn't, he functioned as the team's mechanic. He also had a collection of trashy romance novels that he would read when he had some down time. In fact, he was reading one such novel in the garage when Trevor had happened upon him.

He had been trying hallways he didn't recognize, which had resulted in him being chased away from both the firearms training range (he was actually pretty sure he saw a picture of his face on the wall before they ushered him out), and the gym (Well, maybe being chased away is not totally accurate. When he noticed Rebecca beating the hell out of the heavy bag, he decided to leave before she noticed him and decided it would be more fun to hit something that made funny noises), before finally coming to the garage.

Lucas was there, leaning against the hood of one of a sedan, reading one of his novels so intently he hadn't noticed Trevor's entrance. And so Trevor was left to initiate the conversation.

"Hello, I'm... Wait, what are you reading?" Yeah, in hindsight, he could use a little work on that particular skill. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he facepalmed himself, and just shook his head at his own stupidity.

Lucas, for his part seemed to take it in stride. "Well, that's a hell of a name, Mr. Reading. Most parents stick with something simple, like Bill, or Jack." He said before dog-earing his page and closing the book, shifting his gaze to Trevor. "For instance, mine decided to name me Lucas."

Trevor couldn't help but laugh at that, and the conversation went a good deal smoother after that. It was cut short however, when Lucas stated he really should get back to work, and Trevor decided to get of the way. He may have owned a car, but he'd never worked on a car, so he wouldn't be a lot of help. And so saying, he took his leave.

* * *

Trevor was straining under the weight his arms were trying to support. They were shaking something fierce, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to pull it off. Reaching deep, and with a strained grunt, he managed to exert just enough effort to get the bar back up and onto the rest. The sound of laughter echoed through the room as he let his arms flop to his sides.

"Oh, c'mon mate. That was what? Ten reps maybe, wit' ninety pounds? We've got a lotta' work if we're gonna' get those noodles o' yers inta' any kinda' shape." Trevor rolled his eyes to glare at Douglas from where he was lying on the weight bench. He had stopped by the kitchen around lunch time, and run into the soldier again. Douglas had said he was just taking a quick break before he went back to working out, and suggested that Trevor join him. Having nothing else on his schedule, Trevor agreed. His gift for hindsight today was simply remarkable.

"Well excuse me. Most of my physical activity involved running to catch a bus, or pushing a broom." He said, trying to lift his arms so he could use them to push himself up. The gamble was only moderately successful, and they just kind of flopped onto his chest. This caused Douglas to laugh louder.

"Alrigh', alrigh'... Well, 'ow abou' we move onta' somethin' else then?"

Trevor wasn't sure he was in the mood to do anything else that even remotely resembled physical activity. But instead of saying so, he just shook his head with a wry smile. "Yeah, sure... Why not?"

The next stop was the treadmill. Trevor took it at a nice easy jog, just grateful it didn't require the use of his arms which currently felt like the noodles Douglas always claimed them to be.

"So, ya' lookin' forward ta' yer trainin' tonight?" Douglas asked, and Trevor just rolled his eyes, keeping the pace relatively well.

"Oh hell yeah. I mean, I can't think of anything that would have me waiting with such eager anticipation. Well, except maybe eating broken glass. Or flossing my ass with razor wire." He stated simply, drawing a laugh from Douglas.

"Ye've got some sense o' humor mate. But I don't think it'll be all that bad. Yer just makin' a big deal out o' nothin'." He said, nodding his head wisely. "Anyway, c'mon. We'll get ya' started on some squats next."

By the time they were done, Trevor was sore almost everywhere. But it gave him a bit of persepective. Compared to this, maybe the training tonight wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

Trevor stood frozen in fear. The time had come. They had suited him up, they took him to the location, and they had briefed him on what he was to do. And he was wrong before. So very wrong. This training wasn't 'that bad'. No, it was much, much worse. As he stared at the door that was standing between him and his objective, he gulped audibly. He was going to die tonight. He could see it now. He was going to walk through that door, and it would be like watching dominoes fall. A chain of events, one disaster after another, that would ultimately lead to him lying dead, savagely beaten on the floor.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew he couldn't back out now. He would need to see this through. He had never been much of a believer in god, but it didn't stop him from saying a short prayer as he pushed open the door and stepped through.

"Hello, I believe there's a reservation for Reed? Table for two?" He said, trying desperately not to fidget with the tie around his neck that felt like it was trying to strangle the life from him. The host looked down at some unseen list on the podium in front of him.

"Ah yes, Mr. Reed. Your guest is already present. This way." He said turning to lead Trevor towards what Trevor was certain would be the site of his horrible execution.

However as the table came into view, Trevor found himself stunned into silence at the completely unexpected sight that met his gaze. Trying to take it all in at once didn't seem to work. The woman at the table wore an elegant, strapless azure blue dress, about the same color as her eyes. Her hair fell in chocolate brown curls just past her shoulders. She was talking about something with one of the waiters, revealing a smile full of straight, white teeth. The whole scene seemed so bizarre, so surreal.

He shook himself out of it, and tried to remember the crash course in proper manners and etiquette he had received on the way here. Lack of practice though, meant the execution was sloppy at best. As he seated himself, and the host turned to leave, possibly to hide the look of disdain that crossed his face, he turned to look at his 'dinner date'.

"Rebecca?" The tone of disbelief in his voice was about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. And the reaction on the woman was almost instantaneous, as he blue eyes that had been so captivating just a few moments ago, turned into an icy glare. Yep, that was Rebecca.

"Listen, I'm not thrilled about this either. But apparently, you really, really need work in this area. And several others. I got stuck with this as incentive to keep you from screwing up. So, we're going to play nice, you're not going to fuck anything up, and I won't have to break your thumbs. Are we clear?" All of that was explained in a hushed tone of voice that was actually far more intimidating than if she had simply yelled it at him.

He took a deep breath, keeping his hands out of sight so she wouldn't see them shaking, and offered her as polite a smile as he could muster. "Crystal."

Rebecca nodded, and the angry look he was so used to seeing on her features vanished, replaced by a dazzling smile as the waiter she had been talking to returned with a bottle of wine. The change actually caused Trevor's brain to seize up for a moment, as it tried to explain to itself what just happened and how. This proved to be an ultimately futile effort.

* * *

"...So, there we are, pinned down behind the bar, covered in all kinds of alcohol as this place was shot to shit. And I swear to god, Mike starts to pull a cigarette and a fucking lighter from his pocket. I mean, seriously?" Trevor wasn't exactly sure how to respond to Rebecca's story, so he settled on a weak chuckle, returning his eyes to his dinner.

The dinner had started off rocky, and after about the second bottle of wine, had gotten just a bit strange. This was mostly due to the fact that Trevor, valuing his precious internal organs, had forgone consuming any of the alcohol. And Rebecca had seemed more than willing to pick up the slack.

"And then there's you..." He lifted his head again at the sound of her voice, only to find her looking at him with something between a thoughtful expression and a glare. It was kind of hard to pinpoint which she was actually attempting due to her inebriated state. "You just get dragged in one day by Mr. Crestmere, and we're told to train you. But you're practically useless!" Trevor winced a bit at the kick to his ego. Sure, he knew he wasn't exactly skilled in... Well... Anything, really. But that didn't mean he liked having it so blatantly pointed out to him.

"You can't fight, you can't fix anything, and you suck ass when it comes to socializing. Why the hell would Mr. Crestmere bring a little shit like you on board?" She asked, leaning closer to him over the table, as if closer scrutiny would reveal why the man in charge would bring him into such a situation. Trevor leaned back slightly, his eyes shifting around the restaurant like he was seeking a way out.

"I uh... I wish I knew. Trust me, it's not like I asked..." He said nervously, though he got nothing further out, as he found himself being pulled towards her by his necktie, which she had seized as he was futilely looking for a way out. He found himself inches away from her face, looking into her slightly glazed, and fairly angry eyes.

"And you know what really pisses me off about you?" She asked, close enough that he could smell the wine on her breath. "You just don't quit. Anyone else... Anyone else would have. Hell, I was sure after your first training session you would have called it quits. But no, you came back. And I beat the hell you of you some more, and you came back. What drives you? Where does such a useless fuck like you find that ability to keep going when any sane person would have just dropped it?"

Trevor realized he didn't have an answer to give her. He hadn't even realized that was the case. Sure, she had been rather brutal with him during training, but she had never actually broken anything, or done any lasting damage. He just thought the zeal she exhibited during the sessions was to prepare him for the dangers that were actually out there. And yeah, it hurt, but it's not like he wasn't used to that. He was clumsy and seriously unlucky. He'd had to deal with broken bones, concussions, and one time he even ended up with a barbeque fork stuck in his thigh. It's not like he could just stop and walk away every time something painful happened (though he didn't eat related to barbequing for about a month after the fork incident). He settled on chuckling nervously, and offering a slight shrug. "Uh... I uh, I don't know..."

Her eyes narrowed, and Trevor found himself preparing to watch the highlight reel of his life, _'A decidedly short feature' _ he though wryly to himself, before a voice interrupted. "Excuse me, ma'am. Is there a problem?"

The change wasn't as instantaneous as it was before, but Rebecca did let go of Trevor, and turned to smile at the waiter. "No, sorry. I guess I just got swept up in the heat of the moment. I didn't mean to disturb any of the other guests. My date has just been showing me such a wonderful time."

The waiter turned an obviously disbelieving glare towards Trevor, who tried to compose himself, and offered a shaky smile. "Actually, can we get the check? I think..." He cut himself off, mostly so he didn't yelp in pain as he felt Rebecca kick him hard in the shin. Though it didn't stop his eyes from watering. "I think we're about finished with our meal." He finished, trying to keep his voice steady. The waiter simply nodded and turned to leave.

Rebecca turned to glare rather openly at Trevor. Despite being terrified, he didn't back down. It was obvious she didn't want to be here in the first place. Her conversation seemed to jolt erratically between hostile threats and being overly flirtatious (though the latter didn't happen until after she got drunk). It consistently caught him off guard, and he was a bit sick of it. He saw no benefit to dragging this out any further. Especially since they were probably being monitored, and after some editing, this whole fiasco would be playing on every television and computer monitor at base tomorrow.

Rebecca looked like she was going to say something, before just shaking her head, and leaning back in her chair, crossing her arms. He'd have to make sure he had some spare ice packs in his room come tomorrow. And an industrial size bottle of painkiller. He wondered if they had morphine lying around.

Trevor paid the bill when it came, left a tip, and escorted Rebecca outside, though it was mostly for show, which Rebecca made perfectly clear once they got outside and she drove her elbow into his ribs, before catching him with a left hook that he was pretty sure broke his nose. Thankfully before she could do much more damage, the team arrived to pick them up.

"Oh geez, Becca'. C'mon, was that really needed?" Douglas asked the irate woman, stepping out of the van to offer Trevor a handkerchief and assistance into the van.

"Well, last I checked, I didn't exactly volunteer for this." She retorted, climbing into the van, and Douglas just shook his head, turning to Trevor.

"You alrigh' mate?" Trevor tried to laugh, though the pain in his face and his ribs prevented that quite efficiently.

"Oh yeah. This means my mojo is working. You know, like the last girl I hit it off with decided to show her affection by draining almost a liter of blood." He said dryly.

"Yer' somethin' else, mate." Douglas said, helping Trevor into the van, as the group made their way back to the base, where Trevor promptly retreated to his room, and fell asleep for the night.

_**People have an oddly innate ability. They tend to hide, or find ways to blatantly ignore things they don't want to see. A very blatant example of this lies with the things hidden in the night. Mankind knows about them. They are common knowledge in folklore, and tales of the sort. But they are kept there, because mankind does not wish to see the truth of what lives amongst them. But there are more subtle examples. A person who is angry all the time, may may well be hiding a fear of their own insecurities. Someone who makes a big show of how generous they are, with charities and fund-raisers, may be hiding their own ulterior, greedy motives. The trick with people is not to see what they show you. It's how to see what they're not.**_

**-Random undated entry from the journal of Trevor Reed.**

**A/N: **So, yeah, there's another chapter up. I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to read, review, whatever it is that you guys do. Another chapter will be up when it gets up.


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